


Inside my head

by Yoonjoon_buffoon



Category: The Magnus Archives (Podcast)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Angst, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Body Horror, Comfort, Eye Trauma, Feelings, Fluff and Angst, Guilt, Hugs, M/M, Multiplicity/Plurality, Non-Sexual Intimacy, Other Additional Tags to Be Added
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-23
Updated: 2020-10-23
Packaged: 2021-03-08 17:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,418
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27160516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yoonjoon_buffoon/pseuds/Yoonjoon_buffoon
Summary: We will be uploading writings based on plurality in tma. Mostly will be elias/jonah and michael/the distortion.
Relationships: Elias Bouchard & Jonah Magnus, Elias Bouchard/Jonah Magnus, Martin Blackwood/Jonathan "Jon" Sims | The Archivist
Comments: 2
Kudos: 21





	1. In which Jonah and Elias are headmates (oh my god they were headmates)

**Author's Note:**

> We are plural ourselves, and these will be partly based on our own headmates experiences (our tma fictives.) Keep any and all syscourse out of the comments.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which when Jonah took over Elias' body, he didn't die, they just began to share the body.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Based on our own Jonah and Elias, who exist as a subsystem within our system. No syscourse please.

Jonah lies back in the bed, brows furrowed. He is once again filling up with guilt. He hurt the man he loves. He took his life away from him. Jonah closes his eyes and begins to count to ten, just like they practiced.

One.

He hadn't known. How could he have known what this man would come to mean to him.

Two.

So if he hadn't come to mean anything to him it would be completely fine? How bad of a person does one have to be to only care about hurt when it directly effects oneself?

Three.

But he was different then. Younger. He didn't have the same appreciation for life as he does now. He didn't understand hurt, and pain, and why it breaks people.

Four.

Elias taught him this. Elias took him, a vindictive old man, and smoothed him, made him noble, kind. Someone to be proud of.

Five.

He doesn't deserve Elias. After what he did to him, he deserves nothing but the same pain and destruction he caused. He deserves to feel that loss.

Six.

He deserves to break.

"Hey."

Jonah opens his eyes. Elias is here. Elias.

Elias?

"Yes it's me, you silly old man."

Elias.

Jonah can feel the tears coming, gathering in the corners of his eyes. His eyes. The eyes he forced into the skull of the man he would come to love-

"Stop it! Stop feeling guilty, Jonah."

How can he stop. How can he ever stop.

"What's done is done. It's time to forgive yourself."

Forgive. A mercy he doesn't deserve.

"Stop it! Jonah, you are a wonderful, kindhearted person. You made a mistake - now it's time to let go."

He is crying now, openly, without restraint. Sorry, so so sorry.

"It's ok, Jonah. I'm here. You don't need to cry anymore."

He can feel the light fingers of his love ghost over his eyelids - Elias' eyelids - oh god, what has he done, how could he-

"Hush now. Deep breaths for me. You're safe, I'm safe, everything is ok."

Jonah inhales, as slowly as he can. Through Elias' nose, Elias' throat. It's Elias' lungs that fill up inside Elias' chest, Elias' ribcage that gently expands - and Jonah's eyes that leak regret onto the pillowcase.

He is so sorry. So sorry for the life he took. The existence he stopped in its tracks.

"Hey, stop it. You didn't kill me. I'm still here, aren't I? I'm right here, with you."

Yes. He's here, and Jonah can feel the distant pressure of his arms encircling him, a comfort he is sure he doesn't deserve.

"You deserve the world, Jonah."

Elias is his world. He already has the world.

"Jonah. Count with me. Seven."

Seven.

He is safe. In the arms, the heart, the body of his love. The body that saved him.

Eight.

He pushes back against the pillow, lets his eyes flicker closed again. He lets Elias' lungs fill and empty, slowly and surely.

Nine.

He wraps his own arms around himself, this body that is his home. His world.

Ten.

"Sleep now. I'm right here."

He sleeps.

"Silly old man. My precious, beautiful, silly old man."


	2. In which Martin is an age-slider

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Martin is an age-slider, and becomes small at work - Jon isn't sure what to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In this chapter it can be assumed that Martin is part of a system, even though other headmates are only eluded to. This is based on my own experience as an age-slider. No syscourse please.

_Knock knock_.

Jon looks up abruptly. It's not often he gets disturbed during work these days. 

"Yes?"

The door softly creaks open, and Jon sees a mop of light brown hair peek around the doorframe.

"Martin?" 

The hair nods. 

"Martin, come in. What's wrong? You usually wait until after work if you need to talk..." 

Jon trails off as he takes in the man in front of him. He has stepped fully inside the office now, and Jon can see immediately that something is off. His blue eyes are wide, and his hands are entwined, fingers pulling at each other with the rigour that Jon has become used to from Martin's many stims. But he seems different, meeker, perhaps? It's been a long time since Martin has looked at Jon with the fear in his face that is there now. Jon stands up, and takes a tentative step towards his partner.

"It is...Martin?"

Martin told him that the others tend not to front at work, so he didn't consider that earlier, but seeing the unfamiliar expression on his boyfriend's face makes him wonder.

Martin nods quickly. Sighing, Jon asks,

"Martin, what's wrong? You look scared - has something happened?"

There's a pause. Martin shakes his head, a minute movement, as he maintains eye contact with Jon. 

"O...kay."

Jon looks expectantly at Martin, but the other makes no further effort to explain himself.

"Martin, clearly something is bothering you, but if you don't want to say then can we discuss this later? I have to get back to a statement and-"

"Sorry." 

The word comes out as a whisper, in a slightly higher pitch than usual, if Jon can trust his ears.

"I- Martin you don't need to apologise, I just don't understand what is going on here."

Martin licks his lips, as he continues to look Jon directly in the eyes.

"Small."

Oh. Realisation hits Jon, as a conversation from two weeks ago flashes into his memory.

* * *

_"Jon, sometimes I get younger."_

_"You mean like when a little fronts?"_

_"No I mean, it's still me but...small. Like if I was a child, I guess. It's called age-sliding."_

* * *

Jon hadn't thought much more about it, assuming, like usual, that Martin would approach him if he wanted to discuss it further. But now, with him stood in his office looking positively terrified, Jon really wishes they'd spoken more about it.

"Ok, um. Martin. Do you want to sit down?" He gestures faintly towards his desk chair, unsure whether a young Martin would want to sit in such a formal chair - maybe he is overthinking it. Martin had explained that it is still him, he needn't be so worried, right?

"Sorry, I'm just trying to figure out how best to help you, Martin."

Martin blinks at him. He looks at the chair, then back at Jon. And he sticks his tongue out. He darts into the chair and brings his knees up against his chest, so his feet rest on the seat.

Jon exhales in relief. The fear seems to be fading, and he can now clearly see the childlike expression on Martin's face. He then looks down in suprise, to see one of Martin's hands reaching out to him, his fingers making small open-and-closed motions. Jon takes the hint.

"Yes, ok. Um..."

He gingerly kneels down in front of Martin, and offers his own hand, which is immediately grasped. As soon as he feels his boyfriends warm palm against his, Jon relaxes considerably. This is his Martin, and he will be there for him, whatever he needs.

Martin tries to tug Jon closer, to which Jon lets out a small gasp of suprise. Martin furrows his brow at Jon when he doesn't budge, and then his eyes light up. He flops down onto the floor in front of Jon, and shuffles forward, so they are practically on top of each other. Jon chuckles.

"You ok there?"

Martin leans into Jon's embrace, and smiles against his chest. Taking his cue, Jon wraps both arms around him, and begins to stroke small circles onto his back. There they remain, both making soft noises of content, for what may have been ten minutes, or thirty, or ninety - it doesn't matter, because they have each other.

* * *

Martin sniffs audibly. Jon tilts his head, so he can see his boyfriend. There are tear streaks on his cheeks, and he is blinking rapidly against the fabric of Jon's shirt.

"Martin, hey. It's ok, I'm right here."

He shakes his head slightly, and gently pushes away from Jon, so he can sit up comfortably.

"I know, Jon. Happy tears. I'm ok. A little overwhelmed but I'm ok."

"Oh, er, good. I'm glad that you're ok. Are you still, um...small? Or..."

"No. No, I'm just me. Not that i wasn't before but...you know what I mean."

Jon nods. He glances at his wrist and startles. 

"Martin, it's six o'clock!"

"Oh! Gosh. Sorry Jon, you didn't finish your statement. I shouldn't have disturbed you."

"Hey, no. I'm so glad you did, Martin. It means so much that you trust me with this."

Martin smiles.

"You sure you aren't mad?"

"Absolutely positive. Come on, lets get you home. I'm thinking a nice hot chocolate and a dip into that new anthology you bought, hm?"

"You know me so well."


End file.
